Chapter 51: Echoes of Steel, Whisper of Spies
The Crafter Base was in disarray once again—but this time, it wasn’t due to an enemy ambush or an unexpected threat. In fact, nothing out of the ordinary had happened since the base was attacked. At least, that fact remained true for the base; perhaps not elsewhere.
The chaos stemmed from feverish preparations. With the Arcana Trade Festival fast approaching, every available hand was busy reinforcing supply lines, preparing defences, and arranging ceremonial routes. This was nothing out of the ordinary, as one of the reasons why the crafters hold a private army is because they use it to secure the trade routes for their region and, by extension, for the country. Yet, despite possessing a small army at their disposal, all they could do was barely manage to secure one supply route that reached the borders of the mana-dense zone. Beyond that, the responsibility remained in the hands of the merchant guilds and the respective countries involved.
That said, the adventurer guilds were also involved in the task of providing guard duties for individual caravans. Despite such thorough preparations, the fact remained that more often than not, bandits would manage to sneak in and attack the caravans, or any remaining monster threats could crop up. These things happen, but they rarely draw any attention. After all, the crafter garrison made sure every time that things were taken care of beforehand.
But as these lands are unforgiving, outlier situations do crop up from time to time. As these thoughts lingered in his mind, Azure kept examining the revised plans to secure the route in the upcoming times.
This was too crucial for the objective to be abandoned so easily. "I hope things go smoothly. Enough chaos has already happened for one year." Azure mumbled as he scarfed down a sandwich, which was his breakfast—an uncommon habit on his part, but things were that serious and fast-paced for him to keep up with his menial tasks while carefully going through the plans and maps.
Other than Azure, who held direct command over the entire base, the other six remaining commanders had already been dispatched across neighbouring regions to secure outposts and establish safe trade routes before the Arcana Trade Festival began in full glory.
If not for the urgent message she had to deliver, even Liya would have been among them—tasked with securing the farthest, most vulnerable outpost along the trade routes. Yet, she too was on a mission—a personal favour granted by Azure himself. And the fact remained that recent developments had delayed, if not completely halted, the preparations.
It had been a day since she embarked on that rescue operation, and not a single word had returned. Then again, it was too soon to expect any response from her side. Azure’s mind retraced his thoughts, correcting his concerns as he scribbled notes on a sheet of paper.
As he finished writing and his breakfast—perhaps brunch—concluded, his eyes shifted quickly elsewhere, wasting no time. His gaze was fixed on a strategic map pinned to the large table in front of his desk, located in the middle of his chambers. His concern deepened with each passing hour, especially since Arc had gone missing around the same time Liya had embarked on her mission.
But he had already dealt with the issue by sending Eamon and Aric on the task.
"They'll handle it, I trust those to get it done. At least I think I do. Ahh, there is so much happening all at once — they’d better get me the expected outcome," Azure mumbled with a slightly raised voice, still engrossed in moving the pieces on the map with a subtle hint of his mana.
Others around him were involved in similar activities. Most didn’t bother to look at the commander, but some who did noticed the concern on his face, and one of them asked. It was none other than Veldrin, a fellow knight commander who commanded the troops when Azure was busy dealing with the goblin commander personally during the goblin attack.
"Is everything all right, Commander?" he asked.
Azure’s gaze shifted with a hint of surprise, then he spoke.
"Ahh, why? What happened? Oh, was I thinking out loud? By any chance?"
Veldrin replied swiftly.
"Not exactly, sir, it’s just that you look too concerned. And knowing you, that’s a rare expression."
Azure responded, "Oh, that’s nothing to worry about. I was just thinking of a new idea and wondering how things could pan out." Azure replied in a humorous tone, changing his facial expression to hide his worries, as he did not want to affect the troops’ morale.
He quickly changed the topic by pointing Veldrin back towards the map.
"How does this look to you, Veldrin? Do you see any signs of openings?"
Veldrin’s gaze shifted to the map, analysing the reshuffled pieces on the board. He quickly made his own moves and explained his reasoning. The two continued debating constructively, but the atmosphere of deep intellectual discussion was soon obstructed.
As if summoned by his thoughts, the door to the chamber burst open. A soldier rushed in and halted just inside the threshold, saluting sharply.
“Sir! Permission to report!”
Azure raised a hand, ordering his officers to continue without him. “Go on,” he commanded the soldier as he went back to his desk. Thinking he would need to sign another set of documents. As he sat down, he spoke again.
“Speak,” Azure commanded.
The soldier straightened. “Message from Master Emberwright Forgewell, sir. He requests your presence at the workshop immediately.”
Azure’s eyes narrowed for only a second before he nodded. “Understood. And here I thought I would be signing another set of documents. If not me, then perhaps they are for the general.” Azure Inquired.
"Ahh, these. They are research reports that are to be handed to the general personally. But for the life of me, I could not locate the whereabouts of the general. I have an at this task since the morning when they handed me these documents. If it's not asking too much, could you please guide me in the right direction, sir?"
Azure gave out a genuine giggling laugh, followed by a slight chuckle from some of the veteran officers, including Veldrin in the back.
"Ha ha ha... don't tell me you are running around with those papers for all this time. You poor fool. But knowing the general, he would be busy in his own personal lab right around this time. There are about eleven labs scattered across the base. Most are easy to spot, but the one you are looking for is the main lab. It's actually underground beneath the mansion building."
The soldier got scared and asked, "Is it some kind of a secret lab or something?"
Without another word, Azure adjusted the hem of his coat and exited the chamber, marching in the opposite direction to where Veldrin and the young soldier were headed, the light of the midday sun spilling across the threshold as the scene faded to white.
The rhythmic clanking of hammers and the shimmer of raw crystal made the workshop feel alive. Heat rolled off the forge, shimmering in the air like a mirage. Among the bustle, Azure stepped into the chaos, his boots echoing against the stone floor. The space, carved out with purpose and precision, was far busier and noisier than the quiet roads that led him here.
“Sir Emberwright Forgewell,” Azure called, striding in with practised confidence, “this better be good. I’m not exactly lounging around with free time. My schedule’s tighter than you think.”
The grizzled forge master let out a dry chuckle. “Well, how’s it feel getting a taste of your own medicine?” he retorted, arms crossed. “Imagine how frustrating it’s been for me and my crew every time one of your goons shows up hounding us for progress reports. That said... the thing you asked for—it's ready.”
Azure raised a brow. “Seriously?”
“Oh, it was ready yesterday,” Emberwright admitted with a boasting grin. “But I figured I’d make you wait. Just to give you a small sample of what you’ve been serving us.”
Azure ignored the jab. His focus had already shifted to anticipation—this blade had been on his mind for days, haunting him between duties. At least one problem was about to be scratched off the list.
“Where is it?” he asked.
Emberwright pointed toward the forge, where faint heat waves danced near the mouth of the furnace.
“You said it was ready. Then why’s it still inside the kiln?” Azure asked, puzzled.
“Do I really have to explain everything to you?” Emberwright huffed. “Just pull the damned thing out—you’ll understand.”
Without hesitation, Azure stepped forward and reached into the furnace using the special forge-handled grip, drawing the weapon free in one smooth motion.
“Wow...” he muttered, caught off guard by the weight. “It’s heavier than I expected. But I can manage.”
He held it up, tilting the blade toward the light with practised ease and experienced precision, swinging it around to test how it felt to wield.
It wasn’t ceremonial—but it was beautiful.
The silver blade shimmered subtly with golden-black etching that ran along its length like elegant veins of power. Runes, carved with precision, flowed like a hidden message in a language long forgotten. Only upon closer inspection did the practical nature of their placement become apparent.
The craftsmanship was unmistakable.
Every inch of the weapon screamed function, not flair—despite how pristine and ornate it looked.
Even the crossguard, modest in shape, had a utility-focused curve. The white leather grip gave it a noble air, and the silver pommel held a perfectly embedded azure gem that flickered with faint mana resonance. Azure had initially mistaken it for a showpiece.
Now he regretted that assumption.
“If you want to thank someone, thank that Crafter brat. What was his name again—Arc?” Emberwright said, watching Azure examine the blade.
“He barely visits these days, but that design? Pure genius. Looks ceremonial, but trust me—every part of that sword is meant for war, not display. One of my finest works, that one. No joke.”
Azure remained silent.
He hadn’t held Arc in particularly high regard. The boy had the pedigree—sure. But until recently, he was magicless, a defect in a bloodline known for brilliance. Still, Azure had never voiced those thoughts aloud.
Now, holding Arc’s work in his hand, he couldn’t deny it: the boy lacked talent but had skill.
Before he could dwell further, a messenger approached and leaned in to whisper something urgent into his ear.
Azure’s expression shifted—not alarmed, but changed. A hint of concern undercut by resolve.
He turned to Emberwright with a brief nod. “Thanks for the replacement blade,” he said. “I’ll put it to good use.”
As he began to leave, Emberwright called after him, half-joking, half-serious. “Wait, Azure! You better not bring that masterpiece back to me for repairs, got it? Took me an arm and a leg to forge that thing.”
Azure didn’t respond. "No promises. oldtimer." He simply gave a small nod and vanished into the din of the workshop, blade in hand, and new weight on his
The base roared with renewed life—torches flickering, banners unfurling, boots stomping with pride. Far beyond the gates, the returning troops arrived like a tide, and with them came the familiar clang of armour and the distant cadence of marching drums. From the watchtowers to the courtyards, the air buzzed with the electric spark of victory, or something close to it.
Adelric, cloaked and calculating, stood shoulder to shoulder with one of his subordinate agents, Ryker Thorn, trained to vanish in plain sight. They moved like currents within a storm, unnoticed but ever observant. Being the most skilled and experienced out of the bunch, Adelric didn't let Ryker notice his approach towards him in the cloud until he finally startled him briefly.
“Oh, it's you, sir,” Ryker whispered to not draw attention and continued to blend into the crowd, eyes darting across the viewing stand towards the main cleared path. It was Adelric who broke the silence first.
"Where is Lukan Vale?"
Ryker gave a swift response without letting out any unnecessary details. "Don't know, haven't seen him yet since we went our separate ways after the morning drill."
"He better not be goofing off, we are on a mission here." Adelric scoffed.
"Knowing him, that is a possibility. But he is not that much of a fool; he will get around on his role and deliver what is expected of him eventually," Ryker responded.
"Is that right? Then what have you been up to? Did you find anything noteworthy to report?" Adelric questioned.
"I noticed the guard rotation is erratic, likely due to their recent attack. They seem to be on high alert; we could use this to infiltrate their labs. Now, all the recruits, including us, are stuck with grunt work and internal guard duties while the veterans man the walls. Although sneaking outside might get tricky," Ryker said.
Adelrick gave a smirk response, "Never mind that. We can use that to our advantage to get intel and potentially steal anything vital to our end goals."
The subordinate gave a low whistle. “And here I thought our job was hard.”
But Adelrick’s expression grew distant. His words dropped to a near murmur, as if speaking to some unseen presence.
His gaze had drifted—drawn by a tension he couldn’t quite name. A pressure. A presence.
Something… was watching him.
He scanned the crowd with the precision of a hawk, his senses sharpened by years of evading death. And yet—he saw nothing. No flicker of movement, no glint of steel, no shadow out of place. Just the murmuring masses, the waving banners, and the distant mountains beyond the walls.
Still, the feeling persisted. That crawling itch beneath the skin. That whisper in the bones.
After a pause, he exhaled and shook his head. Paranoia, he told himself. Too many years in the dark.
With that, Adelrick sank deeper into the crowd, his cloak catching the wind like a ripple in water. The celebration roared louder, but the shadows beneath it stretched longer.
The scene faded—firelight dancing, faces cheering—while a storm, unspoken, waited just beyond the horizon.
***
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